What Happens in Vegas
by TheDevilYouDon't
Summary: Micheal plans the worst comradery event yet. Now everything is a blur and no one can remember what happened last night. Great. Set during Season 3. R&R. T for gambling, language, and drinking.
1. The Idea

"Good morning, Pameleon!" Michael walked through the office and smiled at Pam as she looked up from her computer screen. "You excited for our comradery vacation this year?" he asked her eagerly, stopping in front of her desk.

"Um," Pam stopped and glanced over at the closest camera as discreetly as she could manage. "Yes. I need to know when you want us to meet in the conference room so you can update us on the trip."

"Yeah. Um...How about 3:00?"

"Sure." Pam nodded patiently. Smiling widely at the camera, Michael turned and walked into his office, closing the door firmly behind him.

"Where do you think we're going?" Karen asked Pam later on that day as the two of them drank their coffee in the kitchen.

"Honestly?" Pam asked. Karen nodded. "I have no idea. That's the problem with Michael, really. When he does these trips, they're so different from the last ones that you can never quite guess what the next one will be."

"Really?" Karen asked, leaning back against the counter.

Pam nodded and sipped from her coffee mug. "For instance, a couple years ago, Michael tried to talk corporate into letting us all go to a strip club. They said no of course. So, we ended up going bowling. And then, the next year, we went on a booze cruise. So, really, we could end up anywhere."

"He keeps calling it our 'Comradery Vacation.' He even wrote in at the top of the memo he handed out with the list of everything we'll need. What do you think that means?" Karen asked, emptying what was left of her coffee mug into the sink.

"No idea," Pam answered and the two of them started laughing as Andy walked backwards into the men's restroom.

"Since the merger that took place between Stamford and Scranton," Michael told the camera as he sat in his office later on that afternoon. "Corporate has been a bit more lenient with me. They even gave me a $1,000 bonus last paycheck. So, I decided that _this_ was the year to do it. The ultimate comradery trip. Just what these people need. At least that's what really sold the idea to corporate. I can't wait!" he gushed, smiling like he was the best person in the world.

"Settling, settling, settling, settling," Michael repeated as everyone filed into the conference room at 3:00 and sat down around the table and in the chairs pressed against the walls. "Settled," Michael said once everyone was seated and beamed at all of them.

Pam, Jim, and Karen all sat near one another around the table and looked at one another, Jim rolling his eyes. Michael had their attention and he knew it. Worst yet, he liked it. Never before had everyone's eyes been trained to him, watching him expectantly. Even Stanley had stashed away his crossword puzzles for this one meeting.

"Hello, everyone," Michael said as slowly as he could manage. "I suppose you all know why you're here."

"Yes, now get on with it," Stanley groaned from the back of the room.

"We're getting there, we're getting there," Michael said, smiling over in the general area that Stanley was sitting. "Don't be hasty," he said looking over at Stanley with his eyebrows raised. "Stanley." Everyone groaned under their breath. Clearly he was trying to torture them. "So, this year, for the comradery...vacation, we will all be taking a two-day bus trip to..." he started banging his hands on the table. "Drumroll!"

"Michael!" Pam yelled over the beating of his hands on the table in front of her. He stopped and looked over at her, rubbing his hands on his legs with a grimace on his face. "Get on with it."

Michael widened his eyes, took a deep breath and spit out two words; "Las Vegas!"

Everyone took a deep breath and waited patiently for the news to settle. Las Vegas. How on Earth did a failing paper company acquire enough money to send one of it's branches to Las Vegas? When every other branch was preparing for downsizing. Jim shook his head and took a deep breath and looked up at Michael, shaking his head again.

"We're going to Las Vegas?" he asked in awe.

"Yes!" Michael yelled out excitedly.

"Would you mind telling me where we got the money for a big trip like this from?" Jim asked, crossing his arms and sitting back in his chair.

"Well, I'm using my bonus check that I got for the merger, and I'm using the rest of the money that we get each year for branch trips," Michael explained. "And, while we're on the subject, we will be drawing for party partners now. Dwight, get the hat." Dwight stood to follow Michael's order.

Pam raised her hand. "What's a party partner?" she asked, inflecting the words with fake excitement.

"Party partners will be who you will share your hotel room with, who you will spend time with during the two days we're there, the list goes on. You don't go anywhere without your party partner. That's the will gamble together, eat together, sit together on the bus ride, drink together, sleep together," He paused. "Not sleep...as in together. Like...Just share your room with."

Dwight appeared back in the conference room with a large purple top hat. "Michael," he said obediently.

"Thank you, Dwight," Michael took the hat from him. "I will now draw two names from the hat. The name that is pulled out with your's will be your party partner for the duration of the trip. Are you ready?" There was a deep rumble around the room. "Okay," he pulled out two slips of paper. "Alright, Kevin and Phyllis," he pulled out two more papers. "Dwight and Karen." The list went on; Stanley and Meredith, Andy and Kelly, Jim and Angela, Ryan and Pam, and finally, Darrel and Michael.

"Wait, why is Darrel going?" Karen asked. "Isn't he from the warehouse?"

"Yes, but I thought that, you know, going to Las Vegas, we need a bit more of an urban feel," Michael explained.

Stanley sighed and stood up. "I'm leaving," he stated seriously.

"Go ahead, then, Stanley the manly," He turned back to the rest of them. "We'll be leaving Thursday at 8:00 A.M. Be here by then."

As they all filed out of the conference room, they couldn't help but feel as though this entire thing was messed up.


	2. Elvis Wigs and Class Rings

"Land ho!" Michael screamed, rather unnecessarily, as their Grey Hound bus pulled to a slow stop outside of a Days Inn. Jim winced and rubbed his ears as though Michael had screamed with much more volume than he had in reality. Pam, catching sight of him, giggled, which caused Ryan, who was sitting next to her, to shift uncomfortably.

"Everybody out," Michael looked around at them calmly and seriously. "Right now."

Grumbling and stumbling, everyone emerged stiffly from the bus several moments later, blinking in the light of the large city that surrounded them. Jim rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, trying to keep his mind off the scoffing noises Angela was making behind him. Pam rolled her shoulders, not looking forward to the next few days, which, she knew, would be spent with an awkwardly silent Ryan.

"Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous," Michael said, handing his bag to an already laden Darrel before clapping and pointing in the direction of the hotel's entrance. "This way, my wenches." Angela scoffed again, much to Jim's annoyance, before following Michael, her arms crossed across her chest.

After twenty minutes, five of which were spent explaining to Michael what the word 'succor' meant, they were all successfully checked in. Michael passed out room keys, giving comments to each of them in turn. When he passed the room key to Angela, she looked down and looked back up at him, her mouth hanging open.

"Absolutely not," she said, handing the key back to him. "I want another room."

"Why?" Michael asked, looking down at the key. "What's wrong with room 66F?"

"It's the devil's number!" Angela cried, throwing her hands up into the air in frustration.

"I thought that was '666,'" Jim said, looking down at Angela and shifting uncomfortably under her icy glare.

"'F' is the sixth letter in the alphabet! Put that with '66' and it _is_ the devil's number!"

"Oh," Michael said and looked down at his own key. "Here," he handed his and Darrel's room key to Jim. "You guys can take our room."

"Thanks, Michael," Jim said. He knew that Michael must just want to get into his room and away from Angela as much as he did. Unfortunately—

"Come on!" Michael cried and skipped over to the elevators. "We have a _long_ night ahead of us."

Dinner was a strange affair, they would recall later. Michael tried to stuff fifteen blueberries up his nose and everyone was—excluding Angela and Dwight—taking more shots than they really needed.

It wasn't until after dinner that they went their separate ways. Pam and Ryan, already drunk, heading towards another bar across the street, leaning on one another and discussing Elvis. Angela and a tipsy Jim went to a 24 hour doll shop down the street, Jim giggling and trying to wrap his arm around Angela, who would slap his hand away patiently.

Dwight and Karen went with most of everyone else to a casino next to the restaurant, Karen leaning against Dwight, who had taken off his jacket and put it over her dizzy self. She laughed and tried to tickle him without success and finally slumped against his side. Michael watched everyone with a smirk on his face. To him, it looked as though the trip was an instant success.

Pam awoke the next morning, groggy and cold. She rubbed her hand over her eyes and tried rub the sleep out. Sitting up, she felt her hand brush against something warm beside her. Yawning, she looked down and almost screamed in shock, because a very naked Ryan was sleeping on the other side of her bed right next to her very naked self.

Jumping out of bed in a flurry of movement, she fell to the floor and grabbed the sheet off the bed and ripping it from under the mattress. This sudden movement caused Ryan to wake just in time to see Pam wrap herself the bed sheet.

"What the hell?" he cried out when he noticed that he was naked as well.

"I don't know! We didn't," Pam stopped and swallowed. "You know, do you think?"

"I hope not!" Ryan said. "Not that, you know, it's just….That would be weird,"

"Yeah," Pam looked around the room as Ryan pulled the blanket off the bed and wrapped it around his waist. "What's this?" She nodded to a heap of clothes on the floor near his side of the bed.

"I don't know," Ryan said, leaning down and sifting through the clothes. A moment later, he held up a black wig and brightly colored clothes. "It's an Elvis costume."

"What?"

"Yeah,"

"No, what's this?" She held out her left hand to him. On her left hand was a silver ring with a blue gem in the middle.

"That's my…class ring," Ryan said, looking it over.

"Why is it on my finger?"

"I have no idea."

"What the hell happened last night?"

The two turned toward the door and charged out, turning down the hall towards Michael's room.

"Michael!" they called out together.


End file.
